


Wounded

by intheinkpot



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-07-17 16:33:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16099499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intheinkpot/pseuds/intheinkpot
Summary: Wounded and vulnerable, Bellatrix lashes out and regrets it.





	1. claws

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "Oftentimes. when people are miserable, they will want to make other people miserable, too. But it never helps."
> 
> Written for the war between Tea and Chaos on the Bellamione Discord server (go Team Tea!)

Bellatrix laughs, tearing the letter from Andromeda to shreds and tossing the pieces in the fire. The parchment curls and blackens just like any hope she ever had of reconciliation. She rounds on Hermione, all wicked fangs and jagged claws and pain fueled-aggression. "What do you think it said, pet? You claim mudbloods are just as intelligent as purebloods and then ask such  _stupid_  questions."

The remark hits, she can see it. Claws sink deep, and tears spring to Hermione's ears, but she blinks them back. Oh no, that won't do. That won't do at all.

"I'm trying to help you, Bellatrix," Hermione says, her voice remarkably calm. Bellatrix would admire it if she weren't determined to destroy it.

"What makes you think I need the help of a  _mudblood_ ," Bellatrix snarls, her words claws sinking deeper, flexing. "It's all the fault of  _mudbloods_  like  _you_  that my family is in ruins."

There. Bellatrix sees the tears, sees them threatening to fall. Hermione fights them back and says, "Don't call me a mudblood. I know you're angry, I know you're lashing out, but please. If you love me..."

And there. Right  _there_. Bellatrix sees the flash of the soft underbelly and strikes. "Love? You believed that lie? Oh, little mudblood, I don't have to love you, I don't think have to think you even human to find your... _uses_." She grins and purrs the last word.

She should have expected the slap the follows, that snaps her head to the side. She tastes blood. Bit her tongue, she expects, or maybe Hermione slapped her hard enough to split her lip. She isn't sure which.

Hermione storms out the front door without another word and slams it behind her.

And Bellatrix is alone.

She moves to the entrance hall and stands still, watching the door. Doesn't understand what she's waiting for, until the adrenaline of the fight, the thrill of the kill fades, and the manor is empty and quiet and cold. Or is that her? She isn't sure.

She watches the door. The clock ticks endlessly. Any moment Hermione will come back through the door to fight.

Any second.

The door doesn't open. No matter. Any second.

Her stomach churns, thinking back over the things she said. She had been so hurt, felt so vulnerable, she lashed out like a wounded animal as she always does.  _Did I really say I lied about loving her?_ She feels sick. Struggles not to throw up. She'll apologize when Hermione comes storming back through the door, furious but not gone. Will grovel and beg and hold her close and reassure her, and Hermione will forgive her and things will be fine. They will be fine.

The door doesn't open. No matter. Any second.

Any second...


	2. aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _prompt: i always bend when it comes to you/i think you'll change, but you never do/you never do, i enable you/let me down, let me down like only you know how // forgive and forget - a day to remember_

Three days pass without word from Hermione while Bellatrix owls everyone she can think of, looking for some sign, some idea of where she is, growing more and more anxious. The Weasley girl responds to her letter with a terse “she’s fine” which allows Bellatrix to breathe a little easier but a different sort of dread rises in its place, seizing her by the throat, choking her.

 

When she hears the door open on the fourth day, Bellatrix leaps from her chair in the drawing room and sprints down the stairs. She stops dead when she sees the Girl Weasley stroll across the threshold, back straight and shoulders squared, her eyes sweeping the entrance hall until they land on Bellatrix. There’s a hard edge to her glare that makes Bellatrix uneasy. It isn’t helped by the way Potter and Weasley flank her. 

 

It takes Bellatrix a moment to realize that Hermione stands behind the three of them, mostly hidden from view.

 

“Hermione,” Bellatrix breathes, feeling a rush of relief, “I was - ” She can’t bring herself to say  _ worried sick _ or  _ terrified _ in front of Hermione’s friends, no matter how increasingly shaky and nauseous she’s been since Hermione stormed out. “I had no idea where you were,” she settles on instead, hoping Hermione will understand.

 

Hermione takes a deep breathe, not meeting Bellatrix’s eyes. “I know. I didn’t...I didn’t want you too.”

 

Bellatrix inhales sharply. Dread creeps up her spine, through her veins.

 

“Hermione, I’m...” She glances at the small group watching them. Swallowing her pride, she says, “I’m sorry. I should never have said - I didn’t mean - ”

 

“You’re always sorry.”

 

Hermione doesn’t raise her voice, doesn’t shout, doesn’t accuse. A single sentence spoken heavy with defeat. All the air rushes from Bellatrix’s lungs. It’s like a wall springs up between them at those words. Her hands tremble, and the thought to hide them in her pockets never crosses her mind. Everything is cracking, crumbling around her.

 

“Hermione - ”

 

“I know you lash out when you’re angry,” Hermione says, lifting her eyes but not quite looking at Bellatrix. “You...you always do it, and you’re always sorry.” 

 

She looks on the verge of tears, and Bellatrix takes a step forward, instinctively moving to comfort her. But Hermione takes a step back, and her friends close in around her, and Bellatrix stops dead.

 

“I  _ am _ sorry, I didn’t...I shouldn’t have said those things, I’m so sorry - ”

 

“I know you’re sorry, Bella, and I  _ know _ you regret it, but... But  _ that _ ? With Andromeda’s letter?” Hermione raises her eyes and looks at Bellatrix for the first time, meets her gaze with steel and fire. “That isn’t happening again.  _ Ever _ .”

 

The shaking gets worse. Her hands trembling, fear choking her, Bellatrix pleads, “It won’t, I promise, just can we - please, can we talk about this privately - ?”

 

Hermione shakes her head, the fight seeming to drain from her. The Girl Weasley steps up and places a hand on her shoulder, and Hermione straightens again, drawing strength from the touch. Bellatrix recognizes the gesture, has done it before. When Hermione feels uncertain, her resolve crumbling, Bellatrix could restore her confidence with a single touch. Seeing it now... Bellatrix can’t breathe, doesn’t want to hear what Hermione needs support to say.

 

“I’m leaving, Bellatrix. I’m getting my things, and I’m going somewhere else.”

 

Bellatrix’s insides turn to ice. “Hermione, please, I - ”

 

“I can’t - I  _ won’t _ do this, Bellatrix. I deserve better.”

 

Bellatrix slumps, lowering her eyes. Her eyes sting, her throat closes up tighter, she can’t pull enough air into her lungs. “You do,” she whispers, because what else can she say but the truth. “I’m so sorry.”

 

“I know.” Hermione closes the distance between them and brushes the hair away from Bellatrix’s face, looking up at her with eyes shining with tears. “This...this doesn’t have to be the end, Bella. I just...” 

 

She swallows and tears slide down her cheeks. Bellatrix brushes them away, noticing only then, in a distant way devoid of feeling, how badly her hands are trembling. Tries to steady them to no avail and settles instead for resting her knuckles against Hermione’s cheek.

 

“Things have to change. I need...I need more than just empty promises.”

 

“They aren’t empty,” Bellatrix whispers brokenly. “They were never empty.”

 

Hermione takes a deep breath, another tear rolling down her cheek. “Maybe you don’t mean for them to be empty, but...am I supposed to let you lash out at me all the time because you’re sorry after? And that - with Andromeda, Merlin, Bellatrix, that - that was  _ so far _ out of line - that was worse than anything you’ve ever said to me and - ” She cuts off, her hand sliding from tucking Bellatrix’s hair behind her to settle against Bellatrix’s cheek.

 

Bellatrix turns her face to kiss Hermione’s palm and close her eyes against the stinging tears. “I didn’t mean. I love you, I  _ swear it _ , Hermione, I love you, I do.” Her speaks in fierce whisper, too choked up to speak any louder.

 

Hermione smiles sadly. “I know. But sometimes...” She trails off, and Bellatrix doesn’t want to hear what comes next, doesn’t want to know how the sentence ends. But Hermione continues despite Bellatrix’s silent pleas. 

 

“But sometimes...it’s just not enough. It isn’t - it isn’t enough that you love me, Bella, you have to  _ show  _ it.”

 

Bellatrix shatters. “I don’t?”

 

“You...you do,” Hermione chokes out through tears. “You’re so...you’re so sweet and kind and thoughtful, and you make me feel so safe and loved, and then...” She swallows hard and continues, her voice growing firmer as she speaks, “And then you turn around and verbally and emotionally abuse me when you’re hurting,” 

 

Bellatrix flinches, but what can she say to defend herself? 

 

“I need more than promises, I need you to follow through now, Bella. But for now...for now, this - us - it’s over. Maybe someday we can...but not now.”

 

Bellatrix can’t breathe. Hermione lowers her hand away from her face and steps back, and Bellatrix thinks distantly she might be crying. Every step Hermione takes away from her feels like a growing chasm she can never hope to cross.

 

_ “This doesn’t have to be the end,” _ Hermione’s voice echoes in her head as she watches Hermione leave the room with Potter and the Weasleys to begin collecting her things.  _ “Maybe someday... _ ” 

 

Despite Hermione’s words, it feels like an end.

 

Bellatrix returns to the drawing room, her feet carrying her without conscious decision, grabs a bottle of Firewhiskey and throws it back, relishing the burn in her throat. A few of Hermione’s things are scattered around the room: a Gryffindor scarf, a few of her favorite books - Bellatrix smiles slightly remember the nights she watched hermione scribble annotations in the margins, her tongue poking between her teeth and her face scrunched up adorably in concentration - a few quills and a well loved sweater that is about two sizes too large but which Hermione swears is the most comfortable thing she owns. Bellatrix gathers them and hides them away under a seat cushion before sitting down.

 

Only seconds later, Weasley enters the room. He glares at her. 

 

“What do you want, Weasel?” Bellatrix snarls.

 

“Hermione said she left some stuff in here. She asked me to get it. She doesn’t want to see you right now.”

 

Bellatrix grits her teeth and clutches the neck of the bottle of Firewhiskey so tight she’s afraid she might crack it. Then a thought occurs to her. It burns like bile in the back of her throat - or maybe it’s actual bile, she thinks, as she starts to feel nauseous again - but she swallows her pride and forces out, “How do I make it up to her?”

 

Weasley stops dead, a book Bellatrix had missed dangling from his fingers. She resists the urge to snatch the book from him. He stares at her in shock. 

 

“What?”

 

“What,” Bellatrix grinds out, “can I do to make it up to Hermione? You’re her friend. Merlin only knows why, you’ve had enough falling outs, surely you have some idea.”

 

Weasley blinks and then snorts. “You need some serious fucking therapy, Black - especially if you think you can ever make this up to Hermione.”

 

“Well, you obviously managed it, Weasel, and you’re the most useless waste of space I’ve ever met so - ”

 

“Sweet Merlin, you can’t turn it off, can you?” Weasley runs his hands through his hair, pulling at the ends slightly. “Even  _ now _ you’re just snapping and insulting people and - you think insulting me is going to make Hermione forgive you?”

 

Bellatrix falls silent, ashamed and hating it. 

 

Ron stares at her, considering, his expression torn. He lets out an aggravated sigh. “Hermione still loves you. But she’s run out of options. So pull yourself the fuck together, Black, because you’re  _ not _ the only one hurting.”

 

Bellatrix grits her teeth. Ron stays only a few minutes more and then leaves, tossing her one last glare over his shoulder.

 

Bellatrix isn’t sure how long it takes for them to gather Hermione’s things. She hopes Hermione will come see her before they leave, but when Bellatrix finally ventures out of the drawing room, the house is quiet and empty once more. She watches the front door from the top of the stairs for several long minutes. 

 

It doesn’t open. She knows it won’t again.

 

She collects the things she’d hidden under her seat and wanders to her room - what used to be  _ their _ room, though it was only unofficially. Bellatrix had never asked Hermione to move it. Had thought it unnecessary as Hermione effectively moved in on her own.

 

Bellatrix places Hermione’s belongs on her night stand, goes to bed - the bed she used to share with Hermione - and lays staring at the ceiling for a long time, hugging Hermione’s pillow to her chest.

 

It still smells like her.

 

_ I should have done something more, _ she thinks, the thought running circles around her head. She wants to feel anger - at herself, at Hermione, at Potter and the Weasleys - but she just feels empty and tired.

 

_ I should have fought harder, I should have swallowed my pride, I should have -  _ Bellatrix takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

 

_ “This doesn’t have to be the end...maybe someday...” _ Hermione said, but no matter how Bellatrix wishes she could draw strength and hope from the words, it feels like everything is over, destroyed beyond repair.

 

_ “You need some serious fucking therapy,”  _ Weasley snapped, and Bellatrix turns that thought over in her mind. Hermione does not want words, doesn’t want groveling. She wants action.

 

A thought occurs to her, the stirrings of an idea, and she drifts off into a fitful and restless sleep against her will as the exhaustion of the day bears down on her. Her last conscious realization is that she needs to pay Andromeda a visit.

 

She just needs to pluck up the courage first.


	3. healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _prompt: part iii. you put up your defenses when you leave/you leave because you're certain/of who you want to be // icarus - bastille_

Bellatrix stands at the end of the lane, staring at the Burrow, trying to pluck up the courage to keep going. She shifts the cardboard box in her arms. It's been nearly a year since she's seen Hermione, and the thought terrifies her. She's been living at the Burrow, that much she knows. But the rest is blank.

 

Footsteps approach, and she whirls around to face the sound. Ron Weasley adjusts his bag on his shoulder. He raises an eyebrow.

 

“You want something? Or were you just planning to stand here forever?” he asks.

 

Bellatrix bristles and bites her tongue to keep from snapping back. She clears her throat. “I've got some...some of Hermione's things. I thought maybe...”

 

Ron watches her. He nods. “Come on then.”

 

Bellatrix follows him down the lane and into the house.

 

“I'll let ‘Mione know you're here,” he says. “She might not want to see you, though - ”

 

But before he can finish his sentence, Hermione passes through the living room, barely glancing at them. “Hi, Ron, your mom is making dinner, did you tell her you were bringing someone over - ”

 

Hermione freezes, staring at Bellatrix. Bellatrix swallows. She shifts the box in her arms.

 

“What’re you doing here?” Hermione says, and it sounds faintly accusing to Bellatrix's ears, but she sounds breathless too so it might just be Bellatrix's imagination.

 

“You left some things,” Bellatrix says awkwardly. Her throat tightens. Merlin, she misses Hermione. “I thought...since you weren't - ” _Coming back,_ she thinks but stops herself, and takes a steadying breath. “I thought you might want them.”

 

Hermione studies her.

 

Bellatrix clears her throat. “I was wondering if we could talk.”

 

There's a moment where Bellatrix is sure Hermione will refuse. But then she nods and says, “Fine. Lets go to my room. We'll have some privacy.”

 

The Weasley home is still crowded, but it's less so than Bellatrix would have expected. She supposes that makes sense: most of the Weasley children are grown and have moved out; it wouldn't be as crowded as the times Hermione had told her about when she stayed at the Burrow during holidays.

 

Bellatrix follows Hermione into a bedroom on the third floor. As Bellatrix sets the box down on the bed, Hermione locks and silences the room to ensure no one  eavesdrops. Then she turns to Bellatrix who watches her. Bellatrix struggles to keep the longing off her face.

 

“Well?”

 

Bellatrix swallows. “I wanted to...apologize. I shouldn't have...”

 

“Said what you did? So you've said.”

 

Bellatrix winces. She places a hand on top of the box. “Yes, that. But also... you didn't forget some of these things. I hid them. I was losing you, but I didn't want...I didn't to lose everything. My therapist thought it was time to let go of these things, though, so - ”

 

“Wait.” Hermione holds up a hand, eyebrows raised. “Your _therapist_?”

 

Bellatrix clears her throat. “Yes. After you left, I realized...well, actually, Ron made me realize - ”

 

“ _Ron_ ? You listened to _Ron_?”

 

“He said I needed therapy, and I realized he was right. So I went to Andromeda and - ”

 

“Oh wow,” Hermione says, a little playfully though with a hint of seriousness. “You actually listened to _Ron_. I guess you really are sorry.”

 

Bellatrix laughs a little at that, though it's a bit sad, and her eyes are watery. “You've no idea, pet.” The term of endearment slips out without thought, and she tenses, thinking Hermione will be angry. But instead Hermione watches her with kind eyes, as though seeing something that Bellatrix doesn't.

 

Hermione sits on the edge of the bed. She moves the box so that it's by her side, and she motions for Bellatrix to sit so the box is between them.

 

“How long have you been in therapy?”

 

“A while now. It took a week for me to go see Andromeda,” Bellatrix says. “It didn't take much convincing for her to help find me a therapist - she works in St Mungos, I don't know if I ever told you that - and then I went through a few before finding one I liked.”

 

“I see. I'm surprised Andromeda agreed to help you.”

 

“Well, she tried to curse me first, but once I managed to get out what I wanted between hexes, she said - and I quote - ‘of course you need therapy, you psychotic bitch, what took you so long?’ It was easy after that.”

 

Hermione pats the top of the box. “And this was your therapist’s idea?”

 

Bellatrix nods, staring at her hands. “She said holding on to them was...well, they aren't mine. I shouldn't have hid from you.” She glances at  Hermione, who is looking at her with a strangely soft expression, though Bellatrix isn’t sure what she said to warrant it.

 

“She thinks it isn't helping me get over you either,” she continues, glancing down, but not before catching the stricken expression that crosses Hermione’s face.

 

“I see,” Hermione says. She smiles, but Bellatrix can tell it's forced. Hope sparks in her chest. “So...you haven't had any suitors then? No men trying to dramatically sweep you off your feet? No women swooning over your beauty?”

 

Bellatrix snorts. “Any man who tried to sweep me off my feet would lose his arms,” she says, and Hermione giggles. “Wouldn't mind the swooning women, though, for the ego stroke if nothing else.”

 

Hermione smiles, a little shakily, and Bellatrix returns it.

 

“And you? No line of suitors knocking on the door?”

 

Hermione shakes her head. “One guy tried it. I almost felt badly for him when Mrs Weasley opened the door.”

 

Bellatrix chuckles. “I imagine it's for the best.”

 

“Well, it was Cormac McLaggen so yes.”

 

Bellatrix thinks hard. “McLaggen...? You don't mean the tosser who pursued you in sixth year?” Hermione smiles wryly, and Bellatrix laughs. “I would have paid to see Molly handle him.”

 

Then she sobers and asks, “Only him? No one else?”

 

“A few others,” Hermione says, “but no one I'm interested in.”

 

Bellatrix nods. She tries to think of something else to say, but her mouth is suddenly dry.

 

Hermione takes her hand in her own. Bellatrix meets her eyes.

 

“I’m so proud of you,” Hermione says. “I know it can't have been easy going to Andromeda. And it can't have been easy opening up to someone you don't know.”

 

Bellatrix shakes her head. “It wasn't. It's...gotten easier. Slowly.” Hermione rubs her thumb across the back of Bellatrix's hand. “But it's been...helpful. Andromeda agreed to a few sessions together, and it was...painful, but...it helped. We're doing better. Cissy and I, too, actually. I also wanted to ask if you would be willing...” She loses her nerve. “Sorry, forget it, it was a stupid idea - ”

 

“I'd be happy to,” Hermione says, squeezing Bella's hand. “We'll work out when I can join. But if it would help you, I'm more than willing. I wish I had suggested it when we were together.”

 

Bellatrix takes a painful breath. “I would have resisted. You did what was best for you. You did the right thing, leaving me. I wasn't good for you.” She blinks back tears.

 

Hermione brushes Bellatrix's hair away from her face. “But you're taking steps to be better. You're making progress, and that's a good thing.”

 

“I wish I had done it sooner. Before I lost you. I regret that most of all.”

 

“You haven't lost me entirely, Bella. I told you, it didn't have to be the end. We can still be friends.”

 

Hermione hesitates a moment, and Bellatrix is grateful for it, as she needs a moment to reel from the pain of ‘we can still be friends’. But it would be ungrateful of her to wish for anything more. That Hermione still wants anything to do with her is more than she could hope for.

 

“I still love you.”

 

Bellatrix snaps her head up to look at Hermione with wide eyes. She wants nothing more than to kiss her, but she masters the impulse.

 

“I'm not...I'm not saying this because I'm ready to get back together with you,” Hermione says quickly, and Bellatrix tenses, ready for rejection, but Hermione continues, “because I might never be ready for that, but I still care about you. I want you to be happy. I want...I hope one day we can be friends, even if we'll never be anything more.”

 

“I love you too,” Bellatrix says softly. “I'm sorry I wasn't better at showing it.”

 

Hermione doesn't say anything for a moment. Then, “You're doing better now. We'll see how it goes from here.” She squeezes Bellatrix's hand. “Just keep trying.”

 

“I will,” Bellatrix promises. This time she intends to follow through.

 

* * *

 

 

A year later, and Bellatrix can't believe her luck. Or perhaps it isn't luck, she thinks. It's the result of hard painful work, determination, and Hermione's kind nature. They're leaving the restaurant where they've had the most recent in a handful of dates. The past few months, Hermione has grown more confident in the changes Bellatrix has made.

 

It isn't perfect. Bellatrix isn't perfect. Probably never will be. But she's trying. She's getting better and she's learning, and Hermione says that's the most important thing.

 

Bellatrix's relationship with Narcissa has improved over the last two years, losing the strain developed by a lost sister, two wars, and fourteen years separation. Andromeda is still wary, but that's to be expected, she thinks. But last week, the three of them met for tea, and Andy brought her grandson, Teddy, and Bellatrix had once never believed anything like that could happen.

 

Hermione slips her hand into Bellatrix's and leans against her. “I want to take you somewhere.”

 

“Oh?” Bellatrix says curiously. “Where?”

 

Hermione smiles mischievously. “Close your eyes.”

 

Bellatrix does. She feels herself pulled along in Apparition, and when they stop, Hermione says, “Open your eyes.”

 

Bellatrix does. She blinks. “You brought us to my manor,” she says blankly as Hermione pulls her past the gates. Every date up to this one has ended with Bellatrix saying goodnight to Hermione at the front door of the Burrow, last week with a quick chase kiss Hermione had initiated. Bellatrix isn't sure what to make of this.

 

“I did,” Hermione agrees, and when they reach the front door, she stops and turns to face Bellatrix. She bites her lip. “I'm not ready for the night to end. I thought...maybe...”

 

She tugs at the back of Bellatrix's neck to drag her down into a kiss. Bellatrix sighs happily, and her hands go to Hermione's hips and stay there, unmoving. The pace is on Hermione's terms. Bellatrix's heart is beating hard in her chest, but she won't make a move unless Hermione does first.

 

Which Hermione does, bringing one of Bellatrix's hands to her chest, and she moans into her mouth. Bellatrix feels dizzy. She had hardly dared to hope that she would be allowed to touch Hermione like this again.

 

“Are you sure?” Bellatrix asks, because she needs to know Hermione has no doubts, that she won't regret this come morning. “We can always just talk, have a few drinks, and then I'll take you back to the Burrow - ”

 

“I'm sure,” Hermione says breathlessly. “I want you to take me to bed.”

 

Bellatrix kisses Hermione, pushing her back against the door. “I will.” She kisses down Hermione's neck, pulls her hips closer. “Merlin, I've missed you.”

 

Hermione scratches at her scalp. “It's been two years, Bella, please. As much I love what you're doing - _oh!_ \- I want to be properly made love to in a bed, not fucked against your front door. There's plenty of - _ah!_ \- time for that later.”

 

Bellatrix grins against the skin of Hermione's neck and nips playfully. “There is, isn't there?”

 

Hermione pulls her into a kiss. “Yes. Maybe tomorrow morning, in fact.”

 

Bellatrix's heart swells with happiness at the thought of once again waking up beside Hermione. “I like the sound of that.”

 

And with that decided, they enter the manor together.

 


End file.
